Allowing Peace
by WhatAmI88
Summary: After a suicide attempt, Peeta sets Haymitch up on a blind date in an effort to help him become happy again. Warning: Suicide and alcohol abuse. Could be in progress, depends on the reviews


Haymitch sat nervously in the bench seat at the restaurant, fussing with the buttons on his shirt sleeves. He had no idea how he had gotten here. A blind date. He scoffed to himself. Peeta had sent him up, much against his will, and Katniss had simply agreed, smirking to herself slightly, and admitting it would be good for him. A lot had happened since he had tried to kill himself.

He lightly stroked the scars on his wrist, now almost healed over. Peeta had found him bleeding on his living room floor that night, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a bottle of pills in another, the knife he had sliced his wrists open clattered across the floor. He just remembered Peeta screaming his name in horror before he lost consciousness, praying to himself that it had been too late. That was a month ago. Since then, he had been in the drunk tank, once again forced into sobriety. He had been forced on medication for his depression. Admittedly, it had been helping. He felt much more like himself before the games. More so than he had in 26 years.

The click of heels yanked him out of his reverie. He jerked his head up to see who was standing in front of him. A blonde woman with luscious, cascading honey curls, azure eyes, and long, slender legs stood and pursed her pretty lips at him, as if expecting something. Something finally clicked- It was Effie.

He stood and smiled. "Hey! How've you been?"

She embraced him tightly, squeezing his shoulders. "Ohh! Good! What are you doing here all alone?"

He snorted. "You're not going to believe this. A blind date Peeta set me up on."

"What? I am, also! You must be my date."

Haymitch tried to hide the shock on his face; the way his stomach turned and his heart leapt to his throat, pounding in his ears. They had picked and bantered at each other for years. More often than not, it had led to physical intimacy, but nothing else. He smiled, hoping his facial muscles would contort in the right way. "Wow…Alright, then…Let's go."

She was stunning, wearing a flowing skirt that just graced her knees and a smart blouse to match. Her heels were an accentuating color, but what caught his eye was not the clothes themselves, but the way they floated on her curves, accentuating her in a goddess-like aura of beauty. Once they sat down, they started talking immediately, catching up on anything and everything that came up. He lost himself in her smile, feeling the most genuine smile he had in a decade cross his features to imitate her own. He relished in the way her eyes sparkled when she got excited, that flicker of pure, whole life that he longed for for so long. He felt a void closing inside of him slowly, and then he caught himself.

Don't let it happen. Don't. It will all be taken away from you in an instant. You can't be happy. It is always stripped away from you.

His smile began to fade. Pain struck him in the chest and wrenched itself there, ripping open the hole that had started to close.

Effie's light, feathery touched ripped him from his reverie. A frown now contorted her features as she caressed the scars on his wrist, now only slightly scabbed, but mainly an angry, inflamed pink. "Haymitch…Why did you do this to yourself…." When her eyes returned to his from his scars, the light of life was gone; replaced by a pain that made her eyes look like a swirling sea before a storm. "You don't deserve this…Whatever you've done, you don't deserve this…"

He sputtered for a moment, searching for words. What could he say? He wasn't about to explain everything to her right here, right now. He couldn't. It wasn't right to just vomit every problem of his onto her at once. Little by little, perhaps, if she stuck around and the world wasn't as cruel to him as it was before. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he didn't deserve the way he had punished himself….Perhaps it wasn't all his fault.

When their meals came, they still didn't remain silent. Haymitch tried to conceal the trembling of his hands, to no avail. Recovery from alcoholism wasn't tender with his nervous system, and he often trembled. His writing was now shaky and incoherent at times. The doctor had promised it would get better with time, as he became healthier and his body healed. His anxiety, however, did not assist in the matter. His hands trembled with the mark of alcohol abuse, yes, but also with the mark of severe PTSD, as he had been diagnosed. Effie had the grace not to call attention to it, but there was no question she had noticed it, especially when the lightbulbs in her eyes dimmed once more, if only for a second.

As the night ended, they walked down the newly paved cobblestone road together. He breathed deeply in the cool night air, inhaling its sweet comfort. It calmed his nerves slightly, easing his internal trembling.

"….and what's there now, Haymitch? Didn't that used to be part of the Hob?"

"Huh? There?" he pointed, his hand still shaking viciously. "Yeah, that was. It's a café now. Katniss and Peeta actually partnered up with them to sell his pastries-" Effie's hand took his out of mid-air, entangling her fingers in his. Her tiny, delicate hands fit in his so well, she noted. The callous under his middle finger brushing against her smooth skin, the thrill of the sensation enchanting her. Her other hand rested on top of his, stroking it lightly. His mind short-circuited, unsure of how to react.

"There. Now they've stopped shaking." She smiled, obviously somewhat proud of herself. Her smile lit the street in a way no light could for him. He wondered if that light would prevail into the dark nights he spent by himself and chase his demons. He felt his mouth tug up at the ends. Her smile was the most contagious disease he had ever come into contact with.

"Let me walk you home. It's pretty late…."

Her grip tightened on his hand. "Haymitch Abernathy, an unknown gentleman."

He chuckled. "I'm….not the way I was, sweetheart. Not entirely, anyway." He led her home, escorting her over puddles she may have come into contact with and defended her against mosquitoes buzzing in the night.

"I'm staying with Katniss and Peeta, actually, Haymitch."

"Oh. Perfect, then." They stopped in front of the Everdeen/ Mellark household, both not entirely willing to end the night. "Effie….I…erm…"

She giggled. "Never have I seen you speechless. It's quite a nice change from what I'm used to. This….this is all a very nice change. It's just a shame what you had to go through to show who you really are to other people."

Haymitch stared at her, at a complete loss of what to say. He simply sputtered and sighed instead.

"You honestly can't take me for a fool, can you? I knew this was who you really were the whole time. Hiding behind that coarse exterior because you've experienced so much pain….Really, Haymitch, you ought to know me better by now. I'm just honored you privileged me with the opportunity to see it first-hand."

"W…what?" was all he could manage in response. He then smiled and shook his head. "You are….a mysterious, cocky, lustrous woma-" Effie cut him off smashing her lips against his and entwining her fingers in his hair. He wasn't sure how long the kiss endured, but it was all too quick for him, as when she broke from him, she turned on her heel, smirking.

"Goodnight, Haymitch."

He couldn't find it in him to ruin the moment by saying anything. He simply watched her sway away, her dress sashaying in the breeze. He returned to the solace of his own home, the silence a deafening, stark change from the night he had spent with her. If he could properly recall, he had laughed. He was extremely thankful that Peeta had chosen someone he knew. Admittedly, he was quite surprised it had been Effie. He had tried to keep their affairs a secret, and so had she, but perhaps he had underestimated the boy's perception.

Shrugging out of his shirt, he chanced a look in the mirror. He hated himself, there was no question of that. But this appearance didn't help. He had lost weight since his ordeal- again, sobriety wasn't kind on those that had abused alcohol for 26 years- but he wasn't fit by any stretch of the imagination. Reminiscing on the body of his youth, he looked like nothing short of a trash bag now, in his opinion. The long, jagged scar from his games wracked his frame, interrupting his pale skin.

His face was another issue. He hadn't shaved in quite some time, and a relatively bushy beard had grown in. His cornflower blue eyes stared back at him glaringly, long blonde hair obstructing his face. His face wasn't all that bad, he conceded. Perhaps a shave and a haircut would be in order, if he felt like it in the morning.

His thoughts wandered to Effie. He wondered if she liked his appearance- even found him attractive in some way.

He sat down heavily on his bed, sighing deeply. He looked down at his wrists and the ugly scars there. Stroking them pensively, he pondered what his life had become. Because of what he had attempted that night, he had become the children's responsibility. Peeta certainly thought so, at least, and babysat him like he was a child. He was humiliated by this outcome, but he felt he deserved it, after he had worried them so.

He laid back and covered himself, slipping into a light sleep.

In the middle of the night, Effie heard the screams. After a moment of panic, she realized with decent certainty that it was probably Haymitch. Her stomach twisted as she stomped down her instinct to go to him, to comfort him. She couldn't let on that she was falling for him this quickly. She had always had a crush on him, admittedly, but the way he behaved when he was sober was unlike the Haymitch she was so used to. She was very pleasantly surprised. The fact that he had attempted suicide physically hurt her. She couldn't help but somehow blame herself- for not being a better friend, for not being there for him, for not realizing the signs of his depression sooner.

She rolled back over once the screaming had squelched, pulling the covers tighter and hoping that he would have an easier night if he just thought of her.

The next morning, Haymitch wandered over to the Mellark/Everdeen house and sat himself at the kitchen table, a normal occurrence for a Saturday morning these days. He had decided to trim his beard, but not shave it entirely. He would decide on that later. Peeta placed a mug of coffee and his antidepressants and anxiety medication in front of him.

"Hey, buddy. How're you this morning?"

"Oh, fine. You?" He took a sip of coffee and downed his pills.

"Good. How was your date last night?"

Haymitch couldn't help smiling. "Ah….Really spectacular actually…"

"Oh, yeah?" Peeta tried to hide a smirk and failed.

"Yeah…ah…Hey…Could I start working out with you when you go?"

"What? Yeah, of course you can. You….I can't believe you wanna go."

Haymitch turned bashful "Well…y'know."

"Mmhm. I bet I do." Peeta smirked openly, patting Haymitch on the shoulder.

Light footsteps pitter-pattered down the stairs. Haymitch turned to see Effie on the stairs in a silky white nightgown, hair tousled and no makeup on, smiling brightly. He had never seen her more beautiful.

"Goodmorning, Haymitch!" She dashed over to his side, wrapping her arms around him.

He couldn't stop his smile. "Goodmorning, Effie."

She pulled away, her smile fading to a jokingly angry smile. "You trimmed your beard!"

"E…er…yeah…?"

"I liked it longer. It looked very nice."

"It'll grow back fast." He hoped she didn't notice the red flashing across his cheeks.

Maybe, just maybe this life was worth living after all. Maybe he would find solace in that golden smile of hers.


End file.
